Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [53]
I had not got a good look at the horseman, but one physical feature had been unmistakable—the red-gold waves of hair that shone in the sun like a brazen helmet. I would not have been surprised—though I would have been deeply grieved—to discover that Nemo had broken his word. He was only a weak male creature, after all. But if he was only a weak male creature, a beggar and a drug taker—what was he doing outside police headquarters, wearing a suit of the best British tailoring?
•
Six
•
Despite the best efforts of my noble steed, the stars were blossoming upon the blue velvet of the sky before I reached Dahshoor. The afterglow washed the sloping sides of the pyramids in an eerie pinkish light, but the desert floor was veiled in twilight; long before I made out his form, I heard the well-loved voice: “Peabody! Peabody, is that you? Answer me, curse it!”
I urged my horse into a gallop. Emerson came running to meet me, and before long I was held in his tender embrace.
“What the devil do you mean being so late?” he demanded. “I was about to send a search party after you.”
“Please, Emerson. If you must shout, wait until your lips are farther from my ear.”
Emerson mumbled something unintelligible into the orifice in question. Eventually the little mare politely requested the attention she well deserved by nudging me with her velvety nose, and I suggested to Emerson that we save further demonstrations of welcome for a more suitable time and place.
“Yes, quite,” said Emerson. “Come and see our new sleeping quarters, Peabody.”
“The tents have been delivered, then? I particularly requested Ali to send them out immediately.”
“I don’t know whether he sent them immediately, but they arrived a few hours ago. I had Nemo put up our tent—”
“Nemo!”
“Yes, and he did it very deftly, too. What do you think?”
From what I could see in the gloaming, the structure appeared to be properly constructed. I accepted Emerson’s pressing invitation to inspect the interior, and it was only after a somewhat lengthy and thoroughly satisfactory interval that I was able to turn my attention to a matter I had meant to pursue immediately upon my arrival. Emerson politely held the tent flap aside for me, and as we walked hand in hand toward the house I asked, “When did Nemo leave, Emerson?”
“Why, not at all, Peabody, unless he has taken to his heels within the past half hour. I left him with Ramses. . . . What did you say, Peabody?”
“I only uttered a brief ejaculation, fearing for a moment that I was in danger of tripping over a stone.”
“Oh,” said Emerson. “What were we talking about?”
“I was about to say that you should have had Mr. Nemo erect both tents.”
“Amelia, I do not intend that Ramses shall sleep in a tent.”
“It is not for Ramses, it is for Miss Marshall.”
“Oh, curse it, Amelia, why the devil—”
“I told you, Emerson. It is not suitable—”
He interrupted me, of course. We continued our discussion as we walked to the house. The inevitable conclusion having been reached, Emerson shook himself and said calmly, “It is good having you back, my dear Peabody. The place is just not the same without you. I only hope I have not made a mistake in taking that young woman on my staff. Can you believe she kept to her room all day? I am afraid she is not up to the work. I am afraid she is sickly. Night air is bad for sickly persons—”
“The night air is just what she needs to complete her cure. I promise you, she will be ready for work tomorrow.”
“Humph,” said Emerson.
Before we left England, Ramses had informed me that he had decided to write an introductory Egyptian grammar, the volumes available being, in his opinion, completely inadequate. I agreed with his evaluation, but I would have encouraged the endeavor in any case, since I hoped it would help to keep him out of mischief. I was pleased, that evening, to find him busily scribbling, with the cat Bastet sitting on the table acting as a paperweight.
“Where is Mr. Nemo?” I asked, after greetings